


Pretense

by sciencefictioness



Series: Blood Apron [6]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blood, Blood Donor Jesse, Blood Drinking, M/M, Vampire Gabriel, Vampire Jack, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:01:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22608940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sciencefictioness/pseuds/sciencefictioness
Summary: Gabriel checks his emails, this time.  Knows it’s supposed to be Jesse coming.Supposed to be, but something in him still unwinds when he opens the door to find him standing there, his torn jeans and old cowboy hat a welcome sight.“Jesse,” Gabriel breathes, and Jesse grins, and tips the brim of his hat.“Hey there Mr. Reyes,” he says, sliding past Gabriel and into the house. “Hey there sunshine,” he adds, taking the hat off entirely and giving Jack a wave with it.  “Sorry ‘bout last week, had to get some things in order after… well, you know.”Jesse looks at Gabriel and winks.  It shouldn’t be endearing. Shouldn’t be attractive, but Gabriel feels warmth surging in him that has nothing to do with hunger.Nothing to do with hunger for blood, anyway.
Relationships: Jesse McCree/Reaper | Gabriel Reyes/Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison, Reaper | Gabriel Reyes/Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison
Series: Blood Apron [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1420858
Comments: 28
Kudos: 163





	Pretense

When there’s a knock at the door a week later, it isn’t Jesse waiting on the other side.

“Who the fuck are you?” Gabriel asks, lip curling in distaste. 

In Jesse’s place, there is a mountain of a human, towering over Gabriel with his long white hair pulled up into a bun. He’s broad, and scarred, still smiling in spite of Gabriel’s words. It’s amused rather than friendly, now. 

“I’m Reinhardt Wilhelm, here on behalf of Blood Apron in place of your usual donor. He’s unavailable this week. You should have received an email, giving you the opportunity to select a substitute donor yourself, but if a client declines to choose then Blood Apron assigns one for you.” 

He gestures at himself, and Gabriel scowls.

It’s only in that moment with some random human standing before him that Gabriel realizes how truly good Jesse smells. It’s not that this donor smells bad— he’s clean and wearing subtle cologne, and his clothes are nicer than any Jesse has worn. He definitely takes better care of himself. There’s no smell of cigarette smoke lingering on him, no hints of old coffee or sweat in his clothes. His hair is shining, his nails manicured, his skin smooth and moisturized.

Gabriel can scent his blood, though, pumping through his veins. Normally it would be appetizing enough; blood is blood, for the most part, and only illness or addiction really sours it in any noticeable way. Some people taste better than others, of course, but it’s usually not all that dramatic. Except...

It isn’t Jesse’s blood. There is none of the warm, heady promise in the scent. None of the potent, drugging bliss Gabriel has tasted the last two weeks. This donor smells… empty, almost. Water, instead of wine.

“Where is Jesse?” Gabriel asks, annoyance thick in his voice. Reinhardt grins wider, brows raised, looking at Gabriel like he’s holding back laughter.

“Jesse is unavailable this week, as I said. He is doing his safety recertification, which is a requirement after a client has overstepped established boundaries.” Reinhardt gives him a significant look, and Gabriel makes an irritated noise through his teeth. “If he chooses to continue providing you with donation services, he should be back next week at the usual time.”

“If.” It’s not a question, stated flatly and without inflection, but Reinhardt answers anyway.

“After a  _ predation incident,”  _ Reinhardt begins, Gabriel’s scowl becoming more pronounced.

“Predation? What PREDATION?”

“After an  _ incident,”  _ Reinhardt continues, “a donor may, at their discretion, decline to offer services to a client. It’s entirely up to him. I am simply here to offer my services in his stead this week, as a courtesy.”

Gabriel looks him up and down, nose wrinkled.

“Pass,” Gabriel says, and shuts the door on him without another word.

He’s halfway across the house before Jack makes it to the door, all fervent apologies,  _ I’m so sorry about that. _

_ He never checks his emails, please excuse his rudeness. I’ll be sure to double check from now on, so there isn’t any confusion. _

Gabriel checks his emails just fine, but he’d seen the ones from Blood Apron and assumed they were all related to his ‘client probationary period’, so he ignored them. He got enough scolding from Jack, he didn’t need to read more of it typed out in an insincere, professional tone from people he’s paying to provide him with blood.

Jack and Reinhardt exchange vapid pleasantries for a while, Jack still apologizing for Gabriel while Reinhardt assures him that it was fine, he understands, clients often get particular when it comes to preferred donors. It’s all very cordial, and after a few minutes Jack comes back inside, swearing at Gabriel under his breath. Gabriel can hear him moving from the living towards the bedroom; he isn’t stomping, but Gabriel can tell he’s angry.

“Would it kill you to not be an asshole? This is entirely your fault. You could have at least pretended to be nice long enough to send the donor on his way. He came here for  _ you.” _

Gabriel expected Jack to mock him for not wanting to feed from someone else— that he’s already so attached to Jesse, even though the whole point of using a donor service was to keep the opposite from happening— but he doesn’t bother. Maybe he’s too pissed, Gabriel can’t tell; he rolls his eyes where he’s collapsed down into bed.

“You didn’t try to give him a box full of pastries, huh?” Jack is just as fond of Jesse as he is, if not moreso, and Gabriel’s not above teasing him as a form of distraction. Jack just looks vaguely confused.

“Those are for Jesse,” he replies on autopilot, then realizes what he said and scowls at Gabriel. “Shut the fuck up, Gabe.” Jack doesn’t want to admit he’s got a crush on the food. It’s cute, even if it’s also incredibly annoying.

Gabriel snickers, so Jack slams the door on him and heads into the kitchen. 

None of Jesse’s blood, today. None until next week, IF he decides to come back.

Gabriel doesn’t like it, but there’s nothing he can do.

-

Gabriel checks his emails, this time. Knows it’s supposed to be Jesse coming.

Supposed to be, but something in him still unwinds when he opens the door to find him standing there, his torn jeans and old cowboy hat a welcome sight.

“Jesse,” Gabriel breathes, and Jesse grins, and tips the brim of his hat.

“Hey there Mr. Reyes,” he says, sliding past Gabriel and into the house. “Hey there sunshine,” he adds, taking the hat off entirely and giving Jack a wave with it. “Sorry ‘bout last week, had to get some things in order after… well, you know.” 

Jesse looks at Gabriel and winks. It shouldn’t be endearing. Shouldn’t be attractive, but Gabriel feels warmth surging in him that has nothing to do with hunger.

Nothing to do with hunger for blood, anyway.

Jack already has an assortment of food spread out on the coffee table; pastries and finger sandwiches and a bowl of mixed nuts, along with plastic containers stuffed full of more of the same. Jesse smiles at the sight of it, sitting down on the couch and throwing his knees wide as he leans back into the cushions, head tilted to expose his throat. 

“You really don’t have to be doing that, sunshine, but I ain’t gonna complain. Looks delicious.” Jesse glances up at Gabriel, eyes lidded and laced with heat. “Let’s get you fed, then, yeah?”

Gabriel doesn’t wait for another invitation, nor does he meet Jack’s eyes for any kind of approval. He sits down next to Jesse and leans into his space, laying a palm along Jesse’s jaw, feeling his eyes go black as Jesse relaxes into it. The scent of cologne is there again, but underneath it is Jesse’s blood, thick and ambrosial.

He tucks his nose into Jesse’s shoulder and drags it up the line of his throat, breathing in deep as his eyes fall closed. Jesse smells so good, feels good under his hands. The scent of his blood is all tangled up with lust; Gabriel doesn’t need to touch to know that Jesse is hard in his jeans. That he’s digging his fingers into his thighs, fighting not to cling to Gabriel. 

That he wants Gabriel. His teeth, and his mouth, and everything else.

The sound Gabriel makes is involuntary, a low groan in the back of his throat. He lets his mouth linger against Jesse’s pulse for a moment, lips pressed tight to the skin. It isn’t a kiss.

Then he sinks his teeth in, and shudders all over. Gabriel breathes out, a slow, euphoric sigh. It’s only the third time he’s tasted Jesse, but it is already some vital thing he cannot be without. Jesse’s pliant under his teeth, making a soft noise of pleasure as Gabriel withdraws them and begins to swallow. He’s still got a palm cupping Jesse’s jaw. Gabriel wraps his other arm around Jesse’s waist, pulls him closer.

The desire in Jesse spikes higher, and he threads his fingers into Gabriel’s hair, sifting through the short curls while Gabriel drinks. It’s unmistakably affectionate. 

Gabriel doesn’t hate it.

None of the addictive draw of Jesse’s blood has faded in the two weeks he’s been without. It isn’t something Gabriel is going to get used to. Gabriel takes in the taste of sunshine, and power, and it still takes a monumental amount of effort to pull himself away. He does, though. Doesn’t want to take too much, or risk accidentally enthralling him so overwhelmingly again. 

The thought that he is willing to  _ behave himself  _ to keep Jesse close would be enough to make him sneer, except he still has a mouthful of Jesse’s blood and there is nothing that can sour his mood right now. He swallows and laps at the wound he left in Jesse’s throat as the punctures trickle weakly, reveling in just how yielding Jesse is against him.

When Gabriel finally sits back up, Jesse is grinning at him through hazy eyes.

“Heard you sent my replacement packing,” he says, far too smug for someone so breakable. “Did you miss me, Mr. Reyes?”

Gabriel rolls his eyes and untangles himself the rest of the way, finally looking over to see Jack watching them both with black eyes and long fangs. Jesse sees it too, flushing brighter and inclining his head again.

“You can have a taste if you want, sunshine.”

It’s blatantly suggestive. More than just the obvious offer of blood. Jack flusters and looks away, wiping his hand over his mouth. Jealousy flares in Gabriel, but fades just as quickly as he pictures Jesse, docile and eager as Jack drinks from him. 

Then something else flares in him, instead.

“No, that’s… I wouldn’t want to get you in any trouble.”

Jesse lifts his chin higher, still languid on the couch cushions. There is a little of Gabriel’s thrall in him— he couldn’t help it— but it isn’t enough to be dangerous. 

“I’m allowed to offer reputable friends and associates of clients a free sample at my own discretion. It ain’t no trouble.”

Jack flounders, cheeks going pink and eyes still a steady black.

“No, I’m— you don’t have to do that, Jesse.”

Jesse tugs his collar down, exposing where Gabriel’s bite is still sluggishly dripping blood. Gabriel doesn’t know how Jack can say no. He wants to lean back in and latch on again. Wants to keep drinking until Jesse is shaking with his thrall and begging for him.

“Don’t have to, no. But I want to. I hear I taste real good.” He smirks and glances at Gabriel for a moment before looking back at Jack. “Gabriel thinks so. Don’t you, Gabriel?”

Gabriel rolls his eyes again. From another donor, it would sound like a sales pitch, but Jesse looks at Jack with stars in his eyes. Jack blinks until his own clear, even if they stutter black again a few times, like it’s a struggle to do so.

“No, that’s… it’s okay. I’m fine.”

They’ve been together for long enough that Gabriel can  _ feel  _ the want coming off him in waves. Jack wants to say yes, but all that black and white morality of his is holding him back, telling him he shouldn’t. It’s not Gabriel’s job to point out how stupid it is, though, especially when Jesse is all but begging him to feed.

“Alright, sunshine. Suit yourself, but I can’t promise I won’t keep trying.” He winks at Jack, then. 

Jack wipes a hand down his face and looks away again. Gabriel can’t fault him for it, but he  _ will _ tease him later.

Jack pushes through the embarrassment by offering Jesse food, plying him with sandwiches and scones and sliced strawberries dusted with sugar. Jesse eats, and eats, and eats, until Gabriel wonders how he’s actually fitting it all in his stomach. When Gabriel’s bite has stopped bleeding Jack offers their bathroom for him to get cleaned up, and he comes out a few minutes later with the scent of biotics on his skin, the wound already barely there. 

Jesse and Jack make small talk for a few minutes. Gabriel doesn’t notice him doing his check-in, but he must have, because there are no alarms from his phone or calls from his supervisor. After a while Jesse stands and puts his hat back on, snagging the plastic container full of food on his way to the door.

“Real good seeing you two again. Be back again next week. Offer still stands, sunshine. You think about it, yeah?”

Jesse winks at Jack again before slipping out the door. Jack stares at it long after it’s closed, and Gabriel waits, watching Jack until he glances over. Gabriel smirks. Jack glares.

“Not a word,” he says, and gets up to leave the room.

-

They quickly fall into a rhythm.

Jesse comes by once a week, and Gabriel feeds. He gets lost in it every time. The novelty doesn’t wear off, because there is no novelty.

There is only a drugged, overpowering bliss and the taste of Jesse’s blood making him an animal, if only for a while. He drinks from Jesse’s throat, now, mostly. From his chest once, when his shirt is unbuttoned too far and Gabriel can’t resist. Gabriel puts his hand on Jesse’s thigh every time, digging his claws in suggestively. He wants to drink from him there— wants to ease Jesse’s legs apart and bury his teeth in the soft skin, breathe Jesse in deep. It’s too soon, maybe. For him, or Jack, or Jesse. Gabriel isn’t sure.

He has patience. He can wait.

Jesse pets through Gabriel’s hair, and tries his damndest every week to tempt Jack into feeding. Bats his eyelashes and bites his bottom lip and arches on the couch, head tilted to expose his bleeding throat,  _ come on sunshine. _

_ You know you wanna. _

He’s right, Jack does. Jesse is wearing him down. It isn’t obvious, but Gabriel knows Jack. Knows when he wants something.

Knows he wants Jesse.

Gabriel is falling in love with Jesse’s blood but Jack is just falling in love with Jesse, it seems. He is all soft indulgent smiles and long looks. The jealousy Gabriel feels is shallow and mostly petty; deep down, he wouldn’t mind Jack and Jesse wrapped up together in his bed.

Deep down, he wants to watch.

He worries about Jack getting too attached— about how it might hurt if Jesse stops working for Blood Apron, or moves, or can’t be Gabriel’s donor anymore— but that’s a problem for another day.

It isn’t just Gabriel being fed. Jack prepares an increasing variety of foods for Jesse each week, sweets and fruit and bread and nuts, before eventually deciding that that giving him snacks isn’t enough. He insists on making him dinner on the nights he comes by to feed Gabriel. Jesse puts up a token protest, but his heart isn’t in it. The next time he visits, as soon as Gabriel is finished, Jack tugs Jesse into the kitchen and sits him down to a plate of steak and vegetables.

Jesse smiles and thanks Jack, who sits nearby and manages to make enough conversation that it isn’t awkward that Jesse is the only one eating. Gabriel drifts into the kitchen, teasing Jack and Jesse in turn before wandering out again. Food is disgusting, and he can only be around so much of it.

Jack still isn’t a great cook, but he’s on good terms with the neighbors and has enough human friends in activism circles that there is no shortage of willing and amused people to try his first attempts. They’d been eating Jack’s ‘test’ pastries for weeks now; it was probably a relief to be offered some meat. It still all smells like dirt and sticks to Gabriel, and he hates having people around, but he doesn’t complain anymore.

Having Jesse in the house is comforting. Even if Gabriel is full, the knowledge that he could drink more if he wanted is satisfying enough that he can deal with the threat of rotting produce in the fridge or the smell of Jack cooking before Jesse arrives. Roast chicken, pasta laden with meat, pork tenderloin cooked on the shiny new grill on the back deck. Simple, always, but Jesse seems to genuinely enjoy it.

He stays longer and longer each time, sitting on the back deck with Jack and Gabe or watching movies on the couch with them. Jesse settles between them, usually. There is a familiarity between he and Gabriel that makes it easy to touch him— a hand on his knee, an arm around his shoulders, their feet tangled under the table. He doesn’t push things any further.

There are no policies prohibiting fraternization between donors and clients, but if he slept with Jesse and things didn’t work out, he wouldn’t get to drink from him anymore. It isn’t that he doesn’t want to, but it feels like it would be better to let Jesse initiate. Jesse wants him, though. Wants Jack. He’ll make a move sooner or later, Gabriel is sure. 

For now his blood is more than enough. Weeks shift into months. Sometimes there are marks on Jesse’s throat, and it rankles. Sometimes there aren’t, and Gabriel preens. 

He doesn’t like that Jesse is feeding anyone else. Exclusive donors are rare, and expensive, and usually aren’t allowed unless a client has been using Blood Apron’s services for at least a year. Gabriel could try for a second weekly visit, but on the app it says Jesse is fully booked, and asking him in person feels dangerously like desperation.

Right now Gabriel is content, sitting on the couch with Jesse as the credits roll on some idiotic western he’d barely been paying attention to. Jack is on the other side, watching Jesse more often than the television. Either he thinks Gabriel doesn’t notice, or he doesn’t care.

Jesse’s leaned into Gabriel, relaxed, the faintest hint of blood still on his throat. He’d washed most of it off, but there are traces there, soothing Gabriel even though he has no need to drink again. Jesse stretches when the screen flickers back to the streaming menu, his back popping as he stands and grabs his hat off the coffee table.

“I best get going,” he says, easing around Gabriel’s knees as he heads towards the door. “Oh, I meant to tell you, I won’t be here next week. Booked for a party with a couple of my regulars. Tends to take a lot out of me, so I’m taking the rest of my appointments off. They can send you someone else, but I wasn’t sure you’d like that.” Jesse puts his hat on and winks at Gabriel, knowing and conspiratorial. “Anyway you should get an email, in case you change your mind, and I’ll be back the week after.”

Jack is muttering something back to Jesse, the two of them saying their goodbyes as Gabriel glares at nothing. Something ugly roils in him, possessive and displeased, but Jesse doesn’t seem aware of it; he just gives Gabriel a final nod and disappears outside.

Gabriel is scowling, staring at the door.

“A  _ party?  _ What does he mean, a party?” Gabriel gets to his feet and follows Jesse outside before he can stop himself. “Hey! What the hell do you mean! Whose party?”

Inside the house, Jack is laughing at him.

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me nice things, here or on [twitter.](twitter.com/scifictioness?lang=en)


End file.
